


The Cats of Kadath

by GlassAlice



Series: Voltron Amino Weekly October Prompts [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura and Lance are Siblings, Altean Lance (Voltron), Altean Pidge | Katie Holt, Alternate Universe - HP Lovecraft, Based on Lovecraft's The Cats of Ulthar, Cursed Keith, Keith feels all the feels, Keith isn't part Galra but he's part something, Keith sucks at organizing, Keith's house is a mess, Lance & Pidge | Katie Holt Friendship, Lance has the smolder, Loner Keith, Lovecraftian, M/M, Magical Bond, Magical Boys, OctoberPrompts2k17, POV Keith (Voltron), Prince Lance (Voltron), Slow Burn, klance, lance loves his kitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 15:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12369063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlassAlice/pseuds/GlassAlice
Summary: Keith has a cursed past, Lance has a blessed life, but not all is right on the planet Ulthar.The day the ships landed, the first day of the New Enlightenment, Keith remembered the feeling of his eyes smiling as they fell on the ivory spired ships. He grabbed his red jacket and his knife, for one could never be too sure, and ran out toward what he knew would be the beginning of his life.





	The Cats of Kadath

**Author's Note:**

> -Week 2 - Horror Movie crossover
> 
> I don't know horror movies well enough to do a crossover so I biased this on HP Lovecraft's The Cat's of Ulthar instead, my favorite one of his stories. LOOK AT MY WORD COUNT, HOW I DO? I DON'T KNOW! AUSPICIOUS!
> 
> OMG season 4 killed me guys. I'm ded. I'm so glad I'm writing Klance or I might be in my grave rn. I have so many feels. At least I have fandom!
> 
> This is my first time writing anything like this D: I hope I did okay!

There is a legend that has spread throughout the galaxy that in the distant GA-SB7 system there exists a small unassuming planet named Ulthar. On this planet, as it should be in the whole of the universe, cats are considered sacred and worshiped as gods. Whispers of “Voltron” and “Holy Lions of Wrath” can be heard even in the far reaches of universe, but on Ulthar they extend that noble title of Voltron to all cats.

They believe that all cats are part of the ancient god-protector and the god-protector is part of all cats. The worship of cats is not unknown to populations of planets that have not heard the great stories Voltron, but those in Ulthar look down on these primitive nations as having the sealed eyes of kittens, blind and incomplete. 

All cats are born with the knowledge of Green, the instincts of Red, the playfulness of Blue, the fierceness of Yellow, and the courage of Black. Therefore, all cats are protected by the highest law and to harm a cat is to directly harm a god. That is why on Ulthar it is the highest act of blasphemy and punishable by death to hurt even a whisker on any feline.

The planet of Uthar was not always so. Before the law protecting Voltron’s descendants was enacted, when the peoples of this backwards planet worshipped their own feeble ancestors instead, they were simple-minded and amoral. During this dark time, the inhabitants of this faraway sphere turned their eyes away from the horrors that infested their own lands. 

In a small town located in the poor commonwealth of Kadath there lived a strange couple who kept to themselves. The man, Zarkon, was cruel and violent, but the masses did not fear him. He was viewed as a mere annoyance, only leaving his shared hovel at night to drink himself to sleep. It was the woman, Haggar, who all feared. There were whispers of _witch_ behind worn and calloused hands. Glances from the corners of eyes would follow her on the rare occasions that she showed herself at morning market. If any townsperson had the misfortune of meeting her they kept their head lowered, fearing that her eyes would strike a mortal dead. They had no interest in what the couple did, even if it was the work of Beelzebub. 

It was common then, for the adults of the town to ignore any heinous and dark activities that did not directly affect their lives. They did not want to think about why such a couple would want to capture and do--whatever ungodly things they did--with the cats of the town. A few strays missing here or there just meant cleaner streets. A few beloved house pets not returning home was better than losing their own children. They kept their eyes shut by choice, and the willingly blind children of Ulthar would be cursed for their actions.

It was during the sweltering pregnant summer that the caravan approached the commonwealth of Kadath. Great ships on their way to Ulthar’s capital city settled heavily on the loose earth outside of the borders of the town. Soaring clouds of dust swept past the city, covering everything in a fine yellow hue. 

Keith remembered when the giant white ships landed outside his window. His house the furthest from town center, nestled on the border of the sandy sea. He’d lived alone for too many years, now. Those years had turned his boyish face into that resembling a man, his hands coarse and lined, the mark of living in the poor farming land of Kadath. His soft, fat cheeks had turned gaunt and the his sharp frown turned his face hard. The only thing left of the father who had abandoned the now nineteen-year-old boy could be seen in his purple eyes, untouched by the harsh living circumstances, still bright and ready for adventure. 

The townspeople did not trust such eyes. They warned that his caprice eyes meant he would disappear, just like his father. He was not bothered by his life at the edge of town, he didn’t want to keep company with those who would compare him to his father anyway.

The day the ships landed, the first day of the New Enlightenment, Keith remembered the feeling of his eyes smiling as they fell on the ivory spired ships. He grabbed his red jacket and his knife, for one could never be too sure, and ran out toward what he knew would be the beginning of his life.

The biggest white ship, what Keith would think a castle would look like if he’d have to guess, was the closet and seemed to be the leader of the smaller ships. Keith made sure to stick low to the tall yellow grass of the sandy sea, stepping lightly on the solid parts. One misstep and the ground would swallow him whole.

A ramp lowered from the ship closest to Keith, and then as if by cue, each ship behind it lowered their ramps in unison. Keith waited, aubergine eyes catching every detail -- the blue lights, the great spires, a white haired boy. Keith’s breath caught in his throat.

There at the top of the ramp stood an elegant woman with long hair past her waist. Her shoulders, held square, had not known the slump of labor. But it was the shorter boy that stood next to her, one hand on his cocked hip and crooked smile shining up at the woman, that held Keith’s gaze. His skin was dark, darker than even the murky dunes of the sandy sea and his eyes were _blue_. Blue was rare in Kadath and even rarer in its inhabitants. Keith had never seen such a blue in his life and definitely not in a set of eyes. His mother had once owned a blue plate made of fire-hardened glass and dyed with the desert flower _welwitschia_ whose color was a dull dusty blue. Dusty like this cursed town on the edge of the desert-like sea.

Keith gasped as a small black cat jumped onto the boy’s shoulder. The boy seemed unfazed, and just scratched the small cat’s chin.

Keith backed away slowly and then carefully picked his way back to town. He sprinted to the town center to find it swarming with the various townsfolk. 

“What do we do?” “Is it an invasion?” “We should fight!” a host of voices called to the person standing on the gallows-- a permanent fixture in the center of town. They were used as a stage for both politics and death, though Keith found little difference between the two.

The woman on the stage held up her smudged hands, the visible callouses mirrored those on Keith’s own, and those of his neighbor, and his neighbor’s neighbor. A visible mark of their lives entwined. The crowd quieted and all eyes turned to hers, “A message has come from the capital. They are expecting a caravan from deep space. We are to welcome these strangers with open arms.”

A murmur spread through the crowd like wildfire, each person struggling to make their opinion heard above the others’ nearby.

 _So they were_ expected _visitors. That is more boring than I was hoping for_ , Keith thought to himself.

A murmur spread from the edges of the crowd and ripped through the masses like a monsoon, _They’re here._

The townsfolk parted, everyone shoving and pushing, to let the visitors through. Keith took a quick glance around the square; at the back near a tavern was a stack of whiskey barrels. He deftly shifted through the gathering, weaving in and out of the stinking mass, their hard labor pungent in their sweat. Keith scaled the stack of barrels and sat himself on the tallest one, a vantage point that would let him see the whole escapade. 

Streaming, bannered flags of all colors were the first things he spied, tall alabaster poles affixed with silken sheets that glistened under the beating sun. When the pole bearers marched into view Keith was mildly surprised that they didn’t all share white hair like the boy and girl he’d seen on the biggest of the ships. Bright orange, dull pinks, and even soft lavender heads of hair crowned each foreigner. Either way, it was clear that the visitors had hair that was natural and bright in a sea of black manes, burned dark by the sun, just like his own raven locks. They were also dark of complexion, as if the sun had yet to bleach their skin white from hard work. Keith looked down at his own pale skin, washed-out from years of working the grezal farms. He felt shame in the presence of these tall god-like creatures, envied their smooth hands and dark skin, their obviously burdenless lives that he would never know. 

At the peak of his anger, when he was about to give up and go home, he spotted the pair from before. The young woman was smiling and walking stiffly; she seemed uncomfortable and stuck close to the smaller boy. The black cat was still perched on his shoulder, though now under the blinding sun, it seemed to be more of a dark grey than a black, with piercing blue eyes that matched its owner’s own. 

The boy was smiling so broadly that Keith was worried it would split his face; he was waving at the crowd and calling out to them, though Keith couldn’t hear what he was saying from his perch. As they got closer, Keith started to notice other small things about the boy, how he would lean into his cat and talk as if speaking to the cat itself. How he would reach out for a hand that was pushing itself through the horde, grasping to touch one of the bewitching outlanders, before he was pulled back by his collar by the woman. How he would elbow her and she would wave with him for about a dobosh before placing her hand delicately at her side and continuing her stiff walk.

Keith decided he didn’t like this woman who couldn’t stand to be polite to his people. He didn’t like it here and he might look down on his fellow countrymen, but it didn’t mean some snooty foreigner could do the same. But the _boy_ on the other hand, the boy seemed unaffected by the smell of the throng and eager to meet the people in it. It must not be easy for someone so obviously highborn to be so amiable to such an ill-bred town. 

The pair reached the gallows and stopped. Keith had a perfect view of the stage and watched as the woman carefully lifted her skirts, holding them so that they would not accidently touch anything and become soiled. The boy, although in a similar style of cloth, let the hem of his skirt brush the steps as he walked up the stairs, only lifting it enough so that he wouldn’t trip. His skirts were gossamer blue and showed his crisp white uniform underneath. The whole uniform was edged in golden thread that shone brightly. The smooth white uniforms of the foreigners made the ecru homespun clothes of the natives seem that much more dull. 

It was the woman who spoke first, and Keith cringed inwardly.

Her voice lit over the crowed, easy for all to hear, “Kind peoples of Kadath, the city beyond the Capital, I am Princess Allura, Daughter of King Alfor, first of his name, Ruler of Altea and the savior of the Galaxy. We have come today to share our technology and our culture with the citizens of Kadath before continuing our journey to the Capital. We hope that you will share your food and fuel in exchange for these gifts.”

At the end of her monologue, all the pole bearers pounded the base of the rods into the ground three times. When the last clang rang out from the striking of the ground, a large tent whooshed up from the tops. The fabric weaved itself together with the poles across from it creating an arch of shining colors. Keith realized with a start that the tops of the flagpoles were now connected and the tent ran for kilometers, probably all the way to the edge of the town; he couldn’t see the end. 

“Thank you everyone! Please enjoy the fair!” the boy shouted out over the awed gasps of the crowd. He hopped down from the gallows and entered the tent at the closest point. Keith couldn’t help the smirk that quirked his lips at the vexed look on the princess’s face.

The huddled mass shifted as one, entering the tent like a rockslide, colliding into each other in their haste. Keith followed them as if mesmerized, enchanted by a white-haired witch who casts spells with his smiles. _The worst kind of witch._

The closer he got to the tent of fantastic colors the more manic his need to be inside it grew. He pushed and shoved his way to the border that separated all he knew from everything he longed for. The need gripped him, clawed at him, dragged him to the boundary of the tent. He stopped. Fear laced through his bones, clutching at them and holding them fast. 

If he stepped between the silken flaps of the tent’s sides, would anything change? Or would he then know that his life was pointless and insignificant in the infinite darkness of space? What truths were being held behind such a flimsy curtain?

Keith didn’t have time to think about this decision any longer. The throng pushed into the tent, and it carried Keith with it.

While the outside of the tent was a profusion of interlacing colors, the inside was stark white. So white that it made Keith keenly aware of every speck of dirt on his skin. He was struck dumb by the magnificence of the wares. No longer able to move on his own, he allowed the crowd to carry him, like one giant beast, through the tent of wonders. 

Inside, tables of fine etched glass showed off marvels one after the other, each more complex and fantastical than the last. Keith’s eyes widened, his pupils dilating to take in everything they could. Food machines that created sustenance out of particles in the air, holo-pets that needed not food nor water, machines that controlled the weather so your house was cool even if it was hot outside. Keith dare not touch any of the objects. The mass flowed down the line of tables, dragging Keith further and further away from town center. 

When Keith spotted him, he had no clue how far he’d gone, how close to the edge of town he was. He might have been fifty or a thousand meters away by now, this place was like a new world in the middle of their dusty streets. 

The shock of white hair among the heaps of natives’ black and the snatches of lush vibrant hues of the foreigners was like a beacon, pulling at him, calling to him. He was like an aqrabuamelu impelled toward the water’s surface by a maddening thirst. A violent need in his chest directected his movements as he clawed his way to the other boy. He shoved himself through the last line of the throng, emerging at the table occupied by the white-haired boy, lounging comfortably against it and chatting softly with a honey-haired merchant. 

The compulsion ebbed, rushing out from the marrow of his bones, dissipating into nothingness. Sanity gripped his brain again and he saw the two aliens looking at him blankly. Keith quickly straightened his posture and looked down at the etched glass table as if the oddities were what drew him there.

The shorter honey-haired stranger pushed at the thin-rimmed glasses perched on an equally thin nose and smiled, “Hello! I see you’re interested in my research with water-retaining soil. I’m sure that it’ll improve crop output by twenty percent, within a reasonable margin for error. I was able to synthesize nanobots that mimic the way trees operate in an ecosystem, not only storing water, but bringing more water to the area. A desert planet like yours could do so much with this soil.” 

Keith coughed, he was just a farm hand not a farmer, “That’s good,” he managed.

“Good? Just... good? These nanobots can optimize the entire planet’s food production, providing a surplus for generations. It’ll cut down on labor hours and allow more leisure time, which could lead to specialization and a boom in the arts and culture of the entire planet. Plus, no one on this planet will go hungry ever again. That’s just ‘ _good_ ’?” the small one fumed.

“Woah, Pidge, calm down. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm.” Blue Eyes shifted his gaze up to meet his own, “Isn't that right…” an elegant hand gestured toward him in question.

“Keith,” he looked down at his gloved hands, “my name is Keith.” He cringed inwardly. Even among the people of Kadath his name was considered ugly. The last gift his mother gave him before she left, choking herself in the sandy sea. It meant unwanted, or burden in his native tongue. The villagers rarely spoke of the event, but once, when the blacksmith’d had too much to drink, he divulged the story to Keith. His father had ventured out past the sandy sea and came back with a purple-eyed stranger. The woman was more beautiful than the evening sunset and so frail that even spider’s silk would weigh her down. _A selkie._ His father had hid her skin away from her so that she could never return to her land. After she was with child she became so sick that the town feared she would die. They had begged his father, the blacksmith recalled, begged him to let her go. Told him the death of a selkie would curse them all. But he refused. _That’s why_ he’s _gone, and_ your _name’s cursed_ , he concluded. 

Keith knew his name was ugly but had never much cared about that, or the curse that was supposedly on his head, until now. Until he had to tell his shameful past through his name to this perfect boy.

White teeth peaked between dark brown lips as the other boy’s crooked smile widened, “Keith.” he tried it out holding the _ei_ a little too long in his mouth and letting the _th_ slip between his teeth softly. It was like he was cleansing his name, blessing it, lifting its curse, and placing it back on Keith’s head. He needed to hear the other boy say it again.

“I’m Prince Lance d’Altea, lesser son of King Alfor of Altea, first of his name, and all that,” Blue Eyes spoke, trailing off flippantly with a wave of his hand.

Keith scrunched his nose in confusion, thick eyebrows forming a knot on his forehead, “Lesser son?”

The small one, Pidge, shot him a look over their glasses and he regretted his words immediately. A shadow passed over Lance’s face before the smile plastered itself back, albeit a little strained.

“ _Crown Princess_ Allura is the heir apparent, I’m just for show.” Lance gestured to himself shrugging. Smile still firmly in place.

Keith bit his lip, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry, Keith? You didn’t do anything. Allura will make a wonderful Queen one day, I’m sure of it.”

“You’d make a good King too, Lance,” Pidge said arms crossed, glaring at the taller boy.

Lance placed a long white-gloved finger on his lips and winked at Pidge, “Those are treasonous words, Pidge, but you’re my friend so I won’t tell anyone.”

“You would, though,” Keith said without a thought.

Lance laughed, its mirth flitting through the air, dancing around Keith’s head, “You don’t know anything about me, Keith,” he did it again, spreading his name out across his tongue, Keith shuttered. “Are you basing my abilities to become heir to the throne of the whole galaxy on my beautiful face?”

Keith’s face remained neutral, and he hoped that the heat he felt on his cheeks didn’t show through his skin, because he was pretty sure that he had done exactly as Lance had supposed. 

Thankfully, Lance was distracted by the same cat Keith had seen at the landing site jumping up on his shoulder.

“Hola, mi pequeño León Azul.” Lance purred at the cat who was nuzzling her face into Lance’s.

“What are you speaking?” Keith asked, it was not the common tongue, or Altean, or any language he’d heard on Ulthar.

“El lenguaje de los leones, the language of the Lions,” he translated into common, “It’s how we show respect to the small gods of Voltron.” he explained.

“Vol...tron?” Keith asked, the word felt heavy and cumbersome in his mouth.

“You haven't heard of the five-headed god, Voltron? What religion do you practice on Ulthar?”

“Our fathers protect our bodies and our mothers protect our crops,” Keith answered automatically, the adage spilling from his lips rotely.

“And the cats here?” Pidge asked, inching closer and almost whispering.

“The cats?” Keith asked. “What about the cats?”

Pidge and Lance exchanged a look.

“Did I say something wrong?” Keith asked.

“No, no, I’m just surprised. But I guess Ulthar is quite far from our galaxy.” Pidge shook a head of honeyed locks, bouncing them to and fro.

“Do you have shrines here? For your ancestors?” Lance looked up excitedly at Keith, “I’ve never been to a planet that didn’t worship Voltron before.”

Keith thought a moment before he answered, careful with his words, “There is a tree. I could show you, but it’s a bit far.”

Lance jumped excitedly, “Pidge, cover for me with my sister?” The prince, even if he was the _lesser son_ , of the largest empire in the universe put his hands together and pleaded with his friend, almost bowing. 

Pidge shook a head in exasperation, “Yeah alright, but you have to be home tonight for the banquet. Allura will kill me personally if you’re not there.” 

“I swear it, Pidge.” Lance held out a gloved pinky. Keith looked on curiously as the two linked their smallest fingers and pressed their thumbs together. 

Lance spun around, fixing a brilliant smile and shining eyes on Keith, “Well, lead the way!”

Keith had no trouble showing Lance out of the tent, the throng seemed to part effortlessly as they walked. 

He lead Lance to the edge of town to the Mother Tree that grew from a single stone. 

“This is Kadathis, _the source_.” Keith placed his rough palm on the smooth bark, “She is the life force of Ulthar and our link to all our fathers and mothers.”

Lance placed the tip of his longest finger in his mouth and pulled, the glove sliding off to reveal unblemished warm, brown skin. He stepped behind Keith and placed his soft hand over Keith’s own.

“It’s warm,” Lance said, his breath puffing into Keith’s ear.

“That’s because you’re touching me.” Keith tried his best to sound indifferent.

“Hmm.” Lance hummed, the vibration rumbling low in his chest. Keith was minutely aware of Lance pressed against his back. Every point of contact felt hypersensitive and Keith stiffened, not daring to move.

Lance dragged his fingers down Keith’s still-gloved hand before wrapping his fingers around it and pulling it towards him, “Your skin is so light,” Lance said as if to himself.

“I’m in the sun all day, working. Of course I’m sun-bleached,” Keith huffed, a slight pink frosting his cheeks at his obvious poverty.

“I like it,” Lance said absently, as if none of his words had reached Keith’s ears, spoken only for himself.

Keith tried to pull his hand back, but Lance gripped it tighter. He fingered the black glove, “May I?” Lance looked up in question.

 _So close..._ He couldn’t speak, so Keith just nodded his assent.

Lance let go of his hand for a moment and pulled off his remaining glove, dropping both of them on the ground. Keith stood there with his hand awkwardly hanging between them. Lance’s now bare hands sought out the abandoned hand, and lithe fingers wrapped themselves loosely around Keith’s palm.

Lance traced the callouses and lines on his hands, brushing over scars that were pink and shiny. The dark fingers softly gliding over every imperfection they could find before finally placing themselves palm to palm, fingers splayed out to match Keith’s. Keith’s fingers were short and thick, Lance’s thumb about the size of his index finger but Lance’s fingers were longer. They towered over Keith’s bitten nails by a whole knuckle. 

“Amazing,” whispered Lance, to himself once more.

Keith pulled his hand away and Lance frowned. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, a pout forming on his lips.

“No, I... I should get home, and you have to return for the banquet,” Keith lied.

“Oh,” Lance looked up at the setting sun, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Will you meet me tomorrow?” He threw pleading eyes on Keith, his bottom lip sticking out slightly.

“I don’t know.” Keith looked away.

“Please, Keith?” Keith was weak to his name being spoken so softly, so reverently, and he nodded.

“Then meet me tomorrow. For the festival!” Lance held out his hand, palm up.

Keith looked at it questioning. Lance reached for Keith’s undressed hand and held it delicately between his fingers, as if Keith was some sort of fragile glass. Keith gasped as Lance bent at the waist and brushed his lips over the back of his hand. “Tomorrow,” Lance spoke into his hand, and Keith could feel the other boy’s lips shift into a smirk before pulling away. Lance waved before running off back into town.

Keith watched Lance’s back as he disappeared. He brought the back of his hand up to his lips, the memory of Lance still fresh on his skin.

-X-

The next day Keith woke up to his same drab house, dirty and covered in dust. He kicked off his ratty sheets. A dream. No, a nightmare. It was all a beautiful nightmare. He brought his palms to his eyes and rubbed the sleep from them, grit coming loose from his lashes. 

He stared blankly at his sparse room, all the furniture was a single bed, all his possessions stored in piles atop piles stowed in corners. He stretched as he stumbled over to his clothes pile, finding the rough shirt he’d worn the day before and threw it over his head. He grabbed his jacket and tied it around his waist, too hot to actually wear. 

No breakfast today; Ration Day was still weeks away and he was already down to the end of his supply. He stepped out of his house, planning on working the grezal farm that day. A full day’s work was provided with one meal, and Keith figured it was better than using his own rations.

The sun burned where it touched skin as he stretched in the morning light, the day already too hot. Something flashed out of the corner of his eye, reflecting the dawn sun. He looked to his right to see the massive white ships from his dream. 

_It’s real._ Keith thought before scrapping his plans for the day, “He’s real,” he said aloud as he sprinted for the town square. Odd clouds swirled over the center of the city, hanging ever lower as he approached. He had no time for strange cloud formations, and payed no mind to the dark streaks.

When he arrived, Keith searched for Lance, asking every Altean alien he could. They were all chanting in a strange melodic singsong voice. It sounded sad and pleading, even if Keith couldn’t understand the words. Of those he asked, most snubbed him; he was asking about their prince after all. A few of the Alteans were crying as they chanted, hands lifted to the sky, but one finally pointed him to Pidge and Keith thanked them before running off.

“Pidge!” he called out to the small bespectacled Altean.

Pidge stopped chanting and looked up at the sound, spotting Keith, “Oh hey, you’re the boy from yesterday,” said Pidge, as if it was a form of greeting.

“Where’s Lance?” Keith asked, hoping the lanky Altean would be near the only friend Keith knew he had.

“Searching. Blue disappeared last night. He’s been searching since dawn. We all have.” 

That was when Keith noticed the dark circles under Pidge’s eyes and the tight pull of lips in worry.

“What is Blue?” Keith asked.

“Not what, who. Blue, León Azul is missing.” Pidge explained.

Fear ran down Keith’s spine. No one would say anything, Keith knew. These were diplomats on their way to the Capital, no one would tell them the fate of cats that came to Kadath. 

“I know where they are,” Keith whispered between clenched teeth, eyes darting sideways, wary of any of his townsmen overhearing him.

Pidge’s eyes lit up for a brief moment before taking in Keith’s tight frown, “What exactly do you know?” 

“Let’s find Lance first and then I’ll tell you.” Keith’s expression darkened at the thought of Lance with Blue on his shoulder, faces snuggled together.

Pidge led the way, rushing the pair to meet the search party. Keith held back as Pidge walked forward to fetch Lance from the head of the group.

Lance’s face was drawn tight and his lips were pressed into a thin line. His shoulders slumped as he walked with Pidge to Keith’s location. But it was his eyes that caused Keith’s heart to shudder. Gone was the mirthful youth from yesterday, the bright blue was as dull as the welwitschia blossom. Dark circles lined his eyes, aging him by years. 

Keith cringed inwardly at the sight, turning his eyes away. He gasped and jumped slightly as two heavy hands fell hard on his shoulders. He looked up into the lifeless blue eyes, a reflection of the desert that surrounded them. 

“Where is Blue, Keith? Where is she?” Lance seemed desperate, the grip on his shoulders painfully tight. Lance had much more strength than his slight build let on. “I...I can’t feel her anymore!” Lance’s eyes shimmered as unshed teals welled in his eyes. 

“What do you mean? I don’t-” Lance cut him off.

“Where is my cat, Keith?” His words were sharp and his voice cut over Keith’s name like a swear. Keith cringed, the sound of his own name slicing into his heart.

“Zarkon and Haggar the witch, they steal cats,” Keith rambled trying to say all he knew at once fear flowing into him through Lance’s fingers, “I don’t know what they do with them, but no cats ever leave.” Keith’s own eyes were filling with tears and he was having trouble breathing, each breath a desperate gasp. Lance’s hand left his shoulders and Keith sucked oxygen into his desperate lungs. The feelings disappeared along with Lance’s hands and Keith reeled, unsure what feelings were his own anymore.

Lance stumbled backwards, disbelief and terror written across his face. “What?” His breath became shallow and rapid. Lance blinked, but his eyes were unfocused. “Take me there.” All feeling was erased from his voice. 

“I...We can’t. No one goes there. She’s a _witch_ , Lance,” Keith tried to reason.

Lance drew himself to his full height and it was then that Keith realized Lance was slightly taller than him. He squared his shoulders and his eyes became burning ice, “And I am Prince Lance d’Altea son of King Alfor first of his name, Ruler of the known Universe and I _will_ see whomever I please,” _please_ coming out as a growl.

Lance turned on his heel and called out to the search party, “The local commoner, _Keith_ , will show us to the witch’s house where Blue is being kept. Fall in formation.”

Keith lowered his eyes to the ground as anger welled in his chest. He had done nothing wrong, and this pompous prince from a planet so far away Keith hadn’t even heard of it until yesterday, was upset about some dumb _cat_. He was lucky it wasn’t one of his own people that Haggar had taken an interest in. A cat was nothing.

Keith didn’t want anything to do with the witch and he definitely didn’t want anything to do with Lance now either. But he didn’t have a choice, there were too many Alteans around for him to escape. He squared his jaw; he’d take them only so far, but he was not going to get involved with Lance’s drama.

Keith led the party north toward the wall of mountain cliffs. The vile house was built halfway into the cliff face, the shambles of wood that constructed it barely standing. A large stone wall surrounded the perimeter, too tall to peer over. Horrific sounds played at night, like some sort of malevolent symphony, but traveling here during the early morning the silence was almost deafening. Nothing living made a sound.

Keith stopped at the edge of the town, the house within sight, but still a fifth of a chain away.  
“Their house is there,” Keith pointed, “You’re on your own now, _Prince Lance_.” Keith sneered up at the Altean.

Hurt flashed through Lance’s eyes, he put a hand on Keith’s shoulder and dark depression seeped into his very soul. Keith struggled to stay standing, his knees shaking with effort against wave after wave of foreign emotion.

“Thank you, Keith.” Lance’s grip tightened, “Goodbye.” The soft sound of Lance’s voice broke through the despair and landed softly in his heart, warming him.

Keith watched the Alteans approach the forbidden house. He turned away before they arrived and made the long trek back to his own abode. Away from the magic tech, away from their rainbow tents, away from their strange religion, and away from the soft prince that made his name sound like a song.

Keith spent the day trying to forget that anything had ever happened to him or his town, told himself over and over it was a dream. He would wake tomorrow to the same dull life, to the same fear that his life would end up as arid as the desert he lived in.

It was deep into the night when he awoke, sound slipping into his wary dream. A cacophony of wailing and screeching filled the room. Horror seeped into his flesh and prickled, sinking into his bones. The howling grew, until he couldn’t think, couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything but pain and noise and agony. He tried to cover his ears, unsure if the sound was inside his own head or out in the world, but nothing he attempted could begin to muffle the incessant screeching. 

Keith ran from his house, dread propelling him from his bed. The yowling seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once. He pressed his hands tighter to his ears in a futile attempt to dampen the clamor. 

Dust blew up all around him swirling and striking his skin, stinging his flesh, digging into his hair. It forced him to clamp his eyes shut and pull his shirt over his nose and mouth. A mechanical whine joined the bedlam and Keith forced his eyes to open, to see. The Altean ships were getting ready to leave. Panic filled him, crashed down over his head, swam through his veins until it pushed at his feet. He ran. He tried to scream over the ships’ engines, over the dreadful banshee wail, over his panic. Sand filled his mouth, coated his tongue, scratched at his skin, but still he ran. 

The ramps started to rise, lifting themselves into the belly of their ships. His lungs burned and he coughed out wet wads of mucus and muck. He was so close. With all of his strength he launched himself at the ramp, fingers splayed wide, reaching, stretching. His fingertip brushed the cool metal as it rose into its bed. The belly of the ship becoming a smooth surface with nothing to grasp.

The full moon shown down, fat and red. The black clouds took the shapes of horned beasts and unspoken evils. The blue engine flashed, sending a wave that knocked Keith from his feet. His head hit the ground sharply and everything went black.

-X-

In the morning the sun beat down as it always did on Kadath of Ulthar but Kadath was never to be the same again. The Alteans were gone, no trace that the alien race had visited. The townsfolk emptied out of their houses to see all the cats of their city marching by twos back to their respective homes, fat and satiated. The alley cats went back to their alleys, but had no interest in mice. The pet cats snubbed their cream. 

It was the blacksmith who decided to investigate Zarkon and Haggar’s hut, hammer in hand. He went to the house on his own, but no one answered his knock. 

He took his large hammer and broke down the wood door, finding a macabre scene. The skeletons of the Husband and Wife posed in fear lay on the floor, bones picked clean by dainty fangs. Blood had seeped into the floor, staining the wood dark black. The blacksmith pulled his hand to his nose to cover the stench of rot. 

When he told the tale to the peoples of Kadath, he swore on his anvil that a dark grey cat with blue eyes had stared down at him from the rafters of the house. Her body almost transparent and her eyes were wise. The cat had spoken to him, told him that the couple was punished for their crimes against Voltron. That any who dare hurt them again would find themselves with the same fate. Rumors of the curse of a selkie and a ominous child spread through the town. Whispers of Altean dark rituals and vile chanting flew between mouth and ear, although not a trace of ominous child nor Altean aliens were ever found. The stories mixing and intertwining until they were one long tale of how a cursed child brought the wrath of Voltron down on Ulthar.

To this day it is said that anyone who harms a cat on Ulthar is sentenced to death, though the executioner has never been seen and no trace is left behind of the culprit except a skeleton picked clean by small fangs.

-X-

The first thing he noticed.

_Bright._

Keith squinted. He was in a bed, but it was not his own. He was in a room, but it was not his own. Keith coughed. Mud and saliva spilled into his open palm, he winced in pain at the sting of his lungs, every breath ripping through his chest.

The second thing he noticed.

_Blue Eyes._

A hand reached out to him and he grasped it, the skin was dark and soft, unblemished by hard work or the sun. He was lifted up by too-strong arms and carried to a chamber when everything went black again.

The third thing he noticed.

_Lance_

He stumbled out of the healing pod into long strong arms, “You’re really stupid to have gone out in that storm,” Lance chided.

Keith sucked in a breath and it came easy and smooth, all the pain gone, “I needed...” Keith wasn’t sure how to finish.

Warmth ran through him, that foreign feeling, not his feelings, coming through at the points of contact where Lance touched him. “I know,” Lance smiled softly, “and I’m sorry.”

Keith remembered everything at once, “Blue! Did you find her?”

Pain entered Keith and Lance’s eyes grew sad, “Yes, but it was too late. But she will be back, she always comes back.” A cryptic smile laced across his face.

Keith looked into blue eyes, bluer than anything he’d ever seen, and knew blue eyes would be the beginning of his life.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please please tell me what you think!! I've never done anything like this fic before so I'm very very curious if people like it or not 
> 
> Special thanks to [Starbuck7](http://starbuck-7.tumblr.com/) for being the best editor in the world! She also released a fic for this prompt so go check it out! It literally saved my life after season 4 x_x
> 
> [Stalk me on Tumblr!](http://yuzuling.tumblr.com/) Because I love you!


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